And We Meet Again
by Doppelganger
Summary: Three years after graduating from Hogwarts, and one year since the defeat of Voldemort...Harry and Draco meet again in muggle London. What will circumstances allow this time around?
1. What Happened, Happened

Disclaimer: Not mine, J.K. Rowling's and all the publishing and film people and merchandising people's Also: The Grinch belongs to Dr. Seuss  
  
Warning: Is slash - Harry/Draco *note: Ratings might go up in later chapters  
  
  
  
  
  
What Happened, Happened.  
  
Harry woke up with the sun in his eyes, and panicked for a moment before he realized it was, indeed, Saturday and he had no classes to attend to. He relaxed, let out a luxurious yawn, and snuggled back underneath the covers. Harry loved these moments between awake and dreaming, where his mind would drift off in a pleasant haziness that filled his mind with contentment.  
  
Harry Potter, countless times savior of the wizarding world, is now 21 years of age and living in a flat in muggle London. He escaped with all the reasons one would expect of him doing so, being tired of the tormented reminders of war and the price of fame. Harry had of course stood his ground until the war was over, the final confrontation being what everyone expected - the dark lord, the Boy-Who-Lived, and countless corpse littered in the battleground around them, already giving off the smell of rotten flesh decaying. And of course, in a brilliant flash of green light, the dark lord was finally vanquished - because good always, always triumphs over evil, and no one should forget that - not even all mighty Dark Lords who find amusement in rearranging the letters of their names to sound more sinister.  
  
After the war, while everyone grieved for their lost ones, Harry felt lost. Even worse, he felt nothing, absolutely no emotions for those who had died, sacrificing their lives in a many a meaningless battles. Death had ceased to affect him after the numbers of cadavers increased, Cedric was a shock to his system, Ginny caused him to break down in tears, having saved the girl once from the wrath of Tom Marvolo Riddle, only to lose her in the end to Lord Voldemort. The death of Sirius left a dull ache in his heart that never went away, a reminder that even the Boy-Who-Lived was powerless to save those who loved him best.  
  
Ron and Hermoine had thankfully survived, and are now contemplating buying a house in the wizarding world and starting a family. With all the numbers lost during the war, the Ministry had advised all those capable to try their hand at increasing the wizard population. The former Gryffindor trio still have binds that held strong, but Harry couldn't help feeling left out and excluded from the exquisite love that existed between his two best friends.  
  
Harry sometimes felt like he could relate all too well to the Grinch. His heart was aching because it was two sizes too small, and he wondered if he would ever meet someone who could make his heart grow - swell with love. He considered himself too old to believe in fairytales, and true love was just that, a fairytale. But Harry couldn't help but wish for a dashingly handsome bloke to come along and sweep him off his feet, ride with him off to the sunset and live happily ever after in a kingdom on the edge of the sky. Yes, that's correct, a bloke. Harry had discovered that he was more inclined to swing the other way after his crush on Cho Chang had faded, paving the way for more glorious feelings to blossom when contemplating of other males.  
  
Like every hormonal teenage male, there was a time in Harry's life when he was plagued by crushes. Newly discovered feelings were running wild, seeking every good-looking male on the grounds of Hogwarts, limitless of age and circumstances. Heck, he'd even had a stint ogling Snape's arse! Ron and Hermoine had quickly caught on to Harry's tendencies to swing the other way, and neither minded. After all, Hermoine considered herself a liberated woman and Ron has had Percy to deal with - who had dumped Penelope and shacked up with Oliver the moment they had graduated.  
  
But Harry's preferences were a well-kept secret to the rest of the school, locked up securely behind the portrait of the Pink Lady. After all, there are things that the public needn't to hear about - though the wizarding world was more accepting of homosexuals than their muggle counterparts, this news would still have Rita Skeeter reeling in her tacky pink high heels. And Harry, ever the modest boy, was never one for scandal - he preferred his privacy, thank you very much.  
  
Regardless, all the Gryffindors had tried their hand at hooking Harry up with an acceptable match. Seamus, of course, was the first option that many considered. Harry, had of course thought Seamus to be cute, but never progressed beyond his feelings of friendship where the other was concerned. The hyperactive Irish redhead was just not his type.  
  
By sixth year, Harry had finally fallen, and fallen hard. Unfortunately, Harry had lost his heart to the one guy that no one had expected. Not even in Harry's wildest dreams, (and some of them were pretty wild) could he imagine that his crush would ever return his feelings, so he locked these feelings up securely, in his heart, and it became the first secret he had ever kept from his two best friends. But by then, Ron and Hermoine were already dating, and an invisible barrier was slowly growing between Harry and his best friends.  
  
Harry had hoped for these feelings to disintegrate, and go away, but instead they grew and eroded the chamber where he had kept them hidden. He had finally confided in his best friends, and to his surprise, Ron and Hermoine had already figured it out, and wondering when they should inform poor Harry that he was, indeed, in love with Draco Malfoy. Apparently Harry was less apt at keeping secrets than he had thought, but Ron and Hermoine reassured him it was just because they knew him so well. But Harry had his doubts - were his feelings really that transparent? Did Draco - Malfoy - know?  
  
Harry, being the brave and courageous boy that he was, decided that if Draco didn't know, he would have to inform him. The date he set for this confession was graduation day. Unfortunately, hours before he was about to tell the other, Voldemort just had to ruin his day and strike. The first battleground in the impending war was Hogwarts, and many enough innocent were killed to declare the battle a victory for Voldemort.  
  
What followed was a series of nightmarish battles, more harsh and devastating than the first, and the numbers killed had rapidly arisen. What was more devastating, at least for Harry's poor heart, was the fact that he had never seen Malfoy again. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the blond; was he a death eater now, like he had threatened all these years? Or was he one of the innocent killed in the battle, a body so badly mangled that he was beyond recognition?  
  
Harry couldn't help but wonder, just as he couldn't help feeling relieved when, at the end of the war, Malfoy wasn't on the list of Death Eaters rounded up for Azkaban. Lucius was long dead by then, and Narcissa had vanished, leaving Harry frustrated as to what had happened to the one guy who had captured his heart, and still holds it in his hands. 


	2. Meet Lysander

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Disclaimer: Not mine…wait…plot is mine. Words belong to all English speaking people, Harry and Draco to J.K. Rowlings, and words of Shakespeare belongs to the great bard himself

Thank you to all the people who reviewed!! I didn't think I would care that much, until I saw my first review and went rabid with happiness. Please make my day again!

Meet Lysander

Harry was now, two years later, living in muggle London and attending a university in search for a degree in engineering. He'd always enjoyed building things and figured, _why not make a career out of it?_ Harry had given up his quest for finding Draco Malfoy soon after the war ended; the guy simply seemed to vanish off into thin air. Harry, being the faithful friend he was, still kept in contact with Hermoine and Ron, but that seemed to be the extent of his ties with the wizarding world. 

This particular Saturday morning, Harry was being yelled at, and quite loudly, by his flat mate to drag his sorry arse out of bed. Harry cracked one eyelid open, and squinted drowsily at the features of the cranky looking young man.

"Pothead! Up, up, up! I'm leaving in ten for an afternoon jam with the guys at Joe's. You said last night that you wanted to come this time, remember? We've got a new guy to replace Taylor_._" Harry only caught a few phrases here and there, one being _afternoon_ _jam_ and the mention of a _new guy_. Lysander's band practice, then, Harry groggily registered in his mind. 

"Huh? Afternoon…? What time is it_?_" Harry asked sleepily, still not quite sure at why he was being dragged out of his comfortable, cozy, little cocoon. 

"It's twelve o'clock, you lazy bum! I have to be at Joe's by twelve-thirty, so you'd better haul your butt off to the showers at once!" With this, the young man impatiently rustled at Harry's covers, successfully jolting his half-asleep flat mate back into reality. 

"It's twelve? Why didn't you wake me up earlier_?_" muttered a now coherent Harry who had leapt off the bed and was currently busy scrambling around grabbing his shower things. 

"Sorry, I was out doing a little shopping. Hurry up! I've got to put all the groceries away and you'd better be ready when I'm done!" Lysander's voice rang through loud and clear from the kitchen, and Harry figured he had time for about a five-minute shower. 

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, trudging as fast as his he could with sleep weary limbs. "No need to nag."

"I heard that!" Came Lysander's cheerful retort from the kitchen, and Harry silently cursed the walls of their small flat for being so thin and the existence of morning people. Or noon people, as this case may prevail. 

Wincing as he attempted to handle a razor in the showers, Harry added a third curse directed at his horrible professors, for putting all of their deadlines at the end of the semester. Harry, being a procrastinator, had stayed up late all week in order to finish the various term papers and projects due before the summer break. By Friday, he was exhausted and heavily sleep deprived, with a pounding headache and the inability to stand up straight. Yet he had still promised Lysander to come to his band practice, and offer his opinion on if the new guy was any good. So, maybe, all the cursing should be directed at himself. 

Harry pulled on a ratty pair of jeans and an old button down shirt as he walked into the kitchen, toweling his unruly hair dry. Lysander was waiting, leaning against the door, with the keys jangling in his hand. "There you are! Finally! Spent time preening in front of the mirror again, I suppose?" he grinned, showing that he was indeed joking, and went to open the door. 

Harry pulled his oxfords on, save the effort of bothering with a pair of socks, and followed his flat mate out the door. Lysander was really something else, Harry mused, and he considered himself very lucky to find a flat mate he could get along with so well, considering the types of odd people who wondered along London. Not to say, of course, that Lysander wasn't odd. 

Harry had put a classified ad in the newspaper requiring a flat mate ages ago, he was of course rich enough, with his parent's gold, to afford to live alone, but with the cost of tuition and the uncertainty of the job market, he thought that he had better store most of that money away for a rainy day.

One day, Lysander had just shown up at his door, forsaking the formalities of calling or writing, and asked if he could move in. Harry had conducted a hurried interview at the door, found out that the young man could pay his rent, doesn't smoke and is not on the run from the police, and helped him with his bags into the living room. 

On the whole, Harry's intuition to trust the young man had been proven beyond correct. Lysander was about 5'9, had collar length brown hair and was rather androgynous looking. He had came from a rich background, but disowned his parents in an argument over his future. They wanted him to carry on the family business of the law firm, but he was never one to do what others expected. Lysander was also a bit of a pretty boy, having modeled in his past as a way of making spare change. 

Harry wasn't in denial about the fact that Lysander strongly reminded him of a certain someone else. Harry had never dated seriously in his whole life, he had had flings and one-night stands with various men, but not feeling attracted enough to any of them to sustain a relationship. Lysander smirked at his habits, yet another annoying trait that set off memories in Harry's mind. 

Lysander had a firm philosophy about relationships, and love in general. He believed that one would just _know_ when they meet the one they were meant for, regardless of gender, race and background. Thus he didn't date around much, claiming not to be attracted to anyone that Harry had attempted to set him up with. This irritated Harry, to a point of asking how Lysander would know who was the right one if he had never experimented. 

Lysander just smiled with wisdom beyond his eighteen years, and said, "there are more things in heaven and earth, Harry, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Harry just shook his head and chalked up it to the philosophy courses his flat mate was taking. A thought was then pushed to the back of his mind, a memory of that little jolt of…something he had felt when seeing Draco, for the first time, upon that stool in Madame Malkin's shop. 

Harry was lured back to the present by the sound of a car engine starting, and looked around to find himself seated in Lysander's old and beat up Jaguar. Harry shook his head as he always did at the condition of Lysander's car; it was almost like the young man had intentionally roughed up the once beautiful piece of machine to suit his lifestyle. Such a pity, Harry thought, feeling a surge of sympathy for the scarred automobile. 

"You seem awfully quiet," Lysander remarked, "nervous about conquering the new guy?" Harry blinked, and then grinned and shook his head. "Naw…he'll be mine before you guys even take a water break, just wait a see." It was an ongoing joke between the two that Harry had seduced all those who are, or were, in Lysander's band and had even a possibility of swinging both ways. 

Harry had slept with the old guitar player, Taylor, who had quit the band once he realized that Harry couldn't possibly love him. Lysander had jokingly said that Harry was killing his musical ambitions by sabotaging his band, but he was quite relieved secretly because Taylor, frankly, sucked. 

Harry couldn't help but wonder about this new guy. Would he be handsome? Would Harry like him enough for a one-night stand? Would he understand the next morning that it had meant nothing?


End file.
